


Salem || Reddie AU

by kittenlasagna



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Wizards, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reddie, Slow Build, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenlasagna/pseuds/kittenlasagna
Summary: In which Richie and Eddie are wizards who find each other at a secret boarding school in Derry, Maine.***[Based off of 'Salem' by Fox Academy and the characters of Stephen King's 'It']





	1. I'm warmer on the holidays

Richie Tozier had a terrible habit of running his mouth. 

He couldn't really pinpoint exactly when it started, no one could. From the time that he was able to speak coherent words, he spoke uncontrollably. Having a conversation with him was like white water rafting, his words like the currents and one false move and your raft will sink getting you drownded in nonsensical conversation. But trivial things like this didn't bother Richie so he never necessarily attempted to stop it.

And that's where he found himself now. Pinned up against a wall at the back end of his public high school because he had failed to catch his tongue. And this failure, on his part, started with him saying something not particularly repeatable to Henry Bowers and quickly moved to Richie against the wall. And because Richie had this terrible habit, even seconds before Henry attempted to connect his fist with Richie's face, Richie was still running his mouth. This time it was less out of being an ass and more out of fear, for others it was hard to tell the difference between the two due to the fact that it all sounded the same.

It wasn't until Henry Bowers large fist connected with the blabbering boys mouth that Richie finally stopped talking. The sour taste of iron washed over the wounded boy's taste buds. Knowing that his words had not got him out of the hole he dug himself, he started throwing around trying to loosen himself from the grip of Henry’s minions. 

Another punch came, this time connecting with his stomach and then his temple. Richie continued to thrash but to no avail, Patrick and Belch had him pinned up good. Realizing that he wasn't going to be able to escape on his own, he let his eyes frantically wander to the lonely halls, screaming out with the voice he did not have for someone to help him. But all he saw was Vic, who was meant to be the lookout if someone were to come.

Richie moved his eyes back dejected, knowing that nothing was going to help him. He looked at Henry, who was smiling down at him evilly and grunting words Richie couldn't understand over the static that filled his head. He couldn't take it anymore, he pulled his eyes away.

Richie was so disgusted. Disgusted in himself for being so weak and in the world for letting people like Henry Bowers exist. As the more hits connected with his body, the more Richies disgust grew and as it grew it morphed.

The static in Richie's ears was replaced with the sound of his own heartbeat and then by a, almost deafening, shrill ringing noise. Richie's body was practically vibrating, and the pit of his stomach grew warm almost the point of feeling like it was on fire. 

Richie's eyes shot open as he tried to lurch over in discomfort but the hands gripping at his arms prevented him. He could see Henry's hands connecting with his body but now they caused no pain, ricocheting off him like rain off an umbrella. 

The ringing wouldn't stop. 

Richie let out a panicked breath and looked up at Henry. His vision was hazy but he saw something. Behind Henry, he saw a massive fire blazing bright as day. This, however, did not frighten Richie. Instead, it provoked something in him almost as if it the fire was his. 

Patrick and Belch loosened their grip of Richie before letting him slip from their grip completely upon noticing the fire. Usually, after a beating like this, Richie's body would go limp but now it was different. In fact, he was practically floating.

The three of Henry's minions ran, not even bothering to check that Henry was following, escaped from the flames embrace. Henry stood there in shock, his eyes moving frantically from his fleeting friends and then to Richie who was looking back at him. 

Henry desperately wanted to move but his feet were planted firmly on the ground almost as if some kind of outside force was holding them down. The flames surrounding them were growing larger and hotter but this seemingly did not have any effect on Richie. 

The discomfort that lived in the pit of the curly-haired boy's stomach settled slightly but his eyes began to fog over and become heavy. The lightness that was once reminiscing on the balls of his feet moved to his head, causing him to begin to slip in and out of consciousness. Richie's body fell back against the wall he was once pinned against and in front of him, he saw a liquid glowing n the light of the amber flames resembling blood. 

He moved his hand to his face, connecting with the base of his nose and then back into his line of view. The tips of his fingers were covered in blood. 

Richies back slid down the surface of the wall as he looked at the scene in front of him. The flames had died down as he began to slip into an unconscious state, almost matching him in physical power. 

Richie's eyes fell for a brief moment and when they opened for the last time, the fire had completely died. All Richie could hear as he slipped into unconsciousness was the drumming of feet against the school's concrete floors, ceasing the shrill ringing.

What welcomed Richie into his sleep was also the thing that woke him from this sleep. The sound of padding feet against the concrete floor.

At first, Richie squeezed his eyes shut tightly, thinking that everything that he had just experienced was a dream. That when he would open his eyes, he would be met with the same ceiling of his bedroom that he wakes up to every day.

But the clear sound of a heart monitor sounding in the background and the soft hand grasping at his advised him otherwise.

Richie let his eyes fall open and wander around his surroundings. Just as he had suspected, he was in a hospital. The pristine white walls, sheets, and furniture made Richie's eyes ache as they desperately searched for something with lively color.

He moved them to the person grasping at his hand. 

His mother. 

Her arm was thrown over the bed guard and her forehead rested against the surface of her forearm. Her head bobbed and shook, soft cries falling from her lips and into the empty hospital air.

“Mom,” Richie muttered out, his throat dry. Maggie's head instantly flew up from its tucked away position upon hearing her sons voice. She looked at him, eyes stained red and cheeks flushed, and let out a loud sob. The hand that wasn't connected to her sons, moved to stoke Richies cheek.

“Richard, oh my boy!” she cried out again. Her hand squeezed Richies tightly, “this is all my fault, I should have told you.” she said quietly, restraining herself form letting out another sob.

Richie's face twisted in a pained confusion. How could it have been her fault, he pondered. 

Maggie's hand slipped down from Richie's face and moved to reach for his opposite hand, the one not already occupied, and pulled him to look at her. The tears the were once falling form her eyes had dried and her face was flushed. “Richie,” she said in a stern hushed tone, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but you're a wizard.”

Richie stared back at his mother blankly, ‘this had to be some kind of joke’ he thought.

His mom dropped his hand from hers and frantically moved to grab at her purse. She rustled through the contents until she pulled out a small photo album and carefully handed it to Richie.

She watched as he flipped through the pages. Pictures of an array of different things and different people with the exception of a single man who appeared in almost every picture.

The man looked almost identical to Richie minus the stupid goatee that the man in the photographs was sporting. In the pictures, the Richie look-a-like was doing otherworldly tasks and, in some pictures, was accompanied by otherworldly creatures. 

The contents of the photos were things that Richie had only ever seen in comic books and movies. His hand kept flipping through pages, he was astonished.

Richie moved his eyes from the photobook and momentarily glanced at his mother, “who is this?” he questioned.

His mother paused briefly, “that is your Grandfather.” she uttered before reached her hand over to grab at the book clutched between Richie's hand. 

“And it's about time you learned about who, what, you really are.”


	2. Parents sip their chardonnay

Eddie Kaspbrak was the definition of perfection, this was a fact. 

From the time that he was born he had always been this way. From the way his hair was slicked down flawlessly, not even a strand of hair daring to stray out of place, to the way his powerful magic buzzed in his core. Not that he wasn't planned to be this way, his grandparents were formidable wizards, it was only natural that they only allowed his counterpart parent to be just as powerful. 

And in all honesty, this made Eddie feel content. Contrary to the countless people who gawked and pried, insisting how stressful this must have been on the boy, Eddie had the privilege of not falling victim to the pressure. His peers took this as another trait of his flawlessness, deciding that if Eddie himself could not fully understand this comfort, then they would never even begin to comprehend it.

The only notable disadvantage that was present in the boy's life was his height, due to the fact that he was significantly shorter than his peers. Even now, as he sat up from his bed and swung his legs over the side, his feet didn't even graze the floor. He pushed himself up off the mattress, the pads of his feet sounding a soft thud as they hit the cold wood floor. 

He passively let the thought of altering his height with the assistance of magic cross his mind for the umpteenth time as he turned to make his bed. But just as quickly the invasive idea pushed into his mind, he pushed it out. Eddie believed that magic should only be used thoughtfully and in times that he felt it was necessary. This is not an idea that had been forced onto him, rather a natural instinct. For the same reason he would not use his power to alter physical features about himself, was the reason he would not use it to perform simple tasks, such as making his bed.

It made him feel like he had to be dependent on his magic rather than his ability as an individual. To others, this was perceived as Eddie being humble.

Eddie ran his palms across the duvet one last time, smoothing out the remaining wrinkles on the fabric's surface, before turning to make his way towards his wardrobe.

He pulled the mahogany wood doors open, letting his eyes scan across the countless white button-ups and scarlet sweater vests. He let one of his hands slip off the wardrobe's door and move to the hanger of one of the white button-ups and then to the vest, setting them carefully on the dresser to the right of him. 

Pushing the doors closed, he moved to the dresser, pulling out one pair of the many khaki pants. 

He slipped his pajamas off, the cold open air chilling his milky skin, instantly switching them with his uniform. Throwing the discarded pajamas into the dirty hamper, he resisted the urge to iron the almost non-existent wrinkles on his uniform.

He quickly slicked down his hair, threw his bookbag over his shoulder and headed to the door, stopping briefly to make sure that his room was orderly before leaving. Instantly as he stepped foot from the solum silence of his room, a clouded buzz of chatter met his ears. Masses of students strolled around the small boy, coming from all different directions, some of them trowing Eddie a quick smile or wave, which Eddie politely returned. He hadn't really made an effort to make an abundance of friends, in fact, he could count the number of the few true friends on one hand, but that didn't stop people from making an effort to acknowledge him. This was mainly derived from the Kaspbrak name, everyone knew who Eddie was. They didn't mind acknowledging him because unlike the sparse few kids coming from powerful families, Eddie did not hold himself on a pedestal and this was endearing to his peers whether they took not of it or not.

Eddie continued, making his way out of the dormitory to the courtyard. The chatter around him ceasing into the open air, with the exception of the students in conversation that passed Eddie as he walked. But Eddie was quick to tune them out, his mind reviewing the information they went over in lecture the day prior, he was so focused he couldn't even hear the soft clunking rhythm of his shoes hitting the pavement.

Time seemingly moved faster in this mindless state of thought Eddie was in because, next thing you know, the boy was standing directly in front of the clean white-brick building. A crowd of students pushed their way through the door forcefully, obviously excited to get out class, Eddie tried his best not to get taken out in the crowd. His efforts were, unfortunately, not in his favor as he was hauled in the direction of the crowd like a leaf in the wind. The boy nervously looked over his shoulder at the building that was slowly growing smaller from the illusion of distance. When he turned his head back, his eyes immediately settled on the mass of auburn hair. Bill, whom the firey red hair belonged to, reached out to Eddie noticing that he was being helplessly dragged along and grabbed one of the straps on the shorter boys bookbag. Bill pushed through the opposing foot traffic of the students around him, his hand pulling Eddie by the strap behind him. 

The boy just followed in silent relief, his eyes mindlessly to Bills' hair. The budding sunlight that was just peeking its way over the buildings to the other end of the courtyard illuminating the taller boys' hair setting it visually ablaze. "Eddie," the talking torch mumbled, his grip just barely loosening its grip on the strap as they approached the building. Bill let his hand fully slip from the strap, switching to reach for the handle to the door, standing aside to let Eddie go in first. "You can't let yourself get pushed around by people."

Eddie sucked his lip between his teeth. This was not an unusual statement made by Bill, as he tended to treat Eddie like a little brother rather than a friend but it didn't stop Eddie from the embarrassment. 

"Eddie, seriously." he pressed, Eddie bitting his lip a little harder. 

"It's not that easy. It's not like I mean to, it just happens." Eddie said softly. Bill's eyes softened, looking at the crown of the smaller boys head. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him but he tried to push it down. They rounded the corner, lingering in the awkward silence. Finally, Bill broke the silence with a wavering stutter between a few of his words. 

This is a problem the boy had altered with the helo of magic, but some managed to slip through when he was nervous or upset. The stutter itself didn't really bother the boy, but it did attract some negative attention on him when he slipped up in the middle of a spell, resulting in him in a forceful correction for the sake of himself and others.

Eddie responded, glumly at first but quickly warming up to the boy, forgetting that anything had even been said in the first place. The pair were quickly approaching the entrance to the classroom that they had struggled to get through. Just as the went to walk through the open archway, leaving the hallway and leading into the room, the professor called out to Eddie. 

Not even looking up from her stack of lecture notes, "Eddie, darling, the headmaster sent for you. I think it would be in your best interest to see what he wants as soon as possible." 

Eddie felt the glum wash back over him. As always, he was excited about class, and while he would really rather not miss even a minute of lecture, he knew he didn't really have a choice. Eddie stood in the archway, mentally hoping that if he opted to not make any kind of movement, maybe the headmaster would just not want him anymore.

But the soft, but pressing "Eddie," professor muttered, combined with a quick pointed look over the rim of her glasses forced his feet to move. 

As he turned on his heels to mope his way back across the courtyard, he felt a hand come down on his shoulder. 

Bill flashed the boy a quick, warm smile, "I'll catch you later then?"

To which Eddie return, giving a small nod, not wanting to play with the risk of letting the disappointment that weighed in his mind to slip out in his tone. As his feet padded down the corridor, he couldn't help but let the curiosity of what the headmaster wanted. It couldn't be anything bad, of course.

Because Eddie was perfect, and as to Eddie's perfection was mirrored in his day to day life.

And nothing has changed that fact, yet at least.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is one of my first times writing a 3rd person perspective book so I hope it reads ok.
> 
> Leave me a comment!


End file.
